


Forever Visible (Always out of Reach)

by alittleshitwithfeels



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: ( kind of ), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Depersonalization, Eye Horror, Gambling, Other, Possession, Recreational Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittleshitwithfeels/pseuds/alittleshitwithfeels
Summary: This “ships passing in the night” approach to romance did feel nice in a way – that bare little contact without getting overbearing or making him afraid that he’d be found for a fraud.  Then again, maybe he wanted something more than the bare minimum of contact, maybe he wanted to be more than a temporary fixture in someone’s life.---Brief scenes exploring one Elias Bouchard's relationship with one Peter Lukas and how being possessed and literally not a single other soul knowing you're still conscious complicates matters.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Original Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	Forever Visible (Always out of Reach)

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes u gotta be self indulgent and smash a bunch of 'what ifs' together instead of studying
> 
> also the 'other' relationship categorization is bc i'm writing elias as i do on my rp blog and he's nonbinary so. and i apologize for the slightly redundant relationship/character tagging but y'all know how complicated jonah's whole deal makes things

Sea salt air was the scent Elias woke up to and, still in the half-haze of sleep, he smiled. Only once in a blue moon would Peter stay ‘til morning, not that Elias usually minded. The spot Peter would leave would always be colder than it ought – as if no one had ever been there at all – and Elias’s gut would twist with longing, but he found himself deriving some comfort from that loneliness. It’s better than Peter sticking around and suddenly realizing he’d shacked up with the biggest fuck-up in London.

Still, curled into Peter’s side with his nose pressed into Peter’s neck until all he could smell was the ocean breeze while golden sunlight filtered in through broken blinds, Elias wondered if it would be worth that risk. That, more than Peter being disappointed in who he was, Elias was terrified of Peter flat up and leaving. Suddenly, he was glad Peter stayed, if only because he didn’t think he could handle that cold spot today, couldn’t handle the implication that Peter had gone off to sea again without a word and may not come back. 

Peter shifted with a pleased hum, maneuvering to kiss Elias’s neck. “You’re spoiling me.”

Elias snorted. “How? I’ve just been laying here, yeah?”

“And thinking about how much you’d miss me if I left. After last night, I couldn’t help but wonder.”

“Listen, I said I was bad with time; if you’re mad about me thinking you were gone for, like, two weeks when you hadn’t been home in nine months, that’s your fault,” Elias replied, no real teeth nor any real attempt at ameliorating the situation in his tone at all; after all, Peter hadn’t seemed that upset about it in the moment. Distantly, he wondered if he wanted more for Peter to be genuinely upset and leave or for him to not care and stay.

Peter hummed again, teeth grazing his throat as the scent of ocean mist grew the slightest bit stronger. “You’re quite the temptation, Elias.”

At that, Elias pulled up to squint at Peter, lips twisted into a doubtful smile. “What’re you talking about? What? Am I keepin’ you from _work_?”

“No, but I think you’re keeping yourself from work.”

Elias blinked, swore, squinted at his clock, and swore again. “Oh, Mr. Wright’s gonna be pissed.” Not that he did anything when he was at the Institute, but he at least needed to keep up the appearance of doing something. “As a donor, do you think you could maybe get Wright to let me off the hook?”

“As a donor, I’m disappointed to learn this is the type of employee I’m paying for.” 

Elias groaned and tossed his pillow into Peter’s face as he stood to get ready. “You should’ve stayed on your boat if you’re gonna treat me like that!”

“Fine, I’ll be back on the Tundra before you even get to the Institute.”

Elias couldn’t tell whether or not Peter was joking ( or whether he would prefer Peter to be joking or not ), but stuck out his tongue like they were just messing around. “I _was_ going to make stew tonight, but I guess you’ll be stuck with hardtack and whiskey or whatever you eat out there. Lemons? Don’t get scurvy.”

Peter laughed, watching Elias hop into a pair of worn jeans. “What year do you think it is?”

“I dunno, maybe if _someone_ would let me come on their boat, I would know more things!”

Peter snorted. “I’d actually put you to work and then what would you do? Additionally, - ”

“- Mr. Wright would never give me that many months of vacation, yeah yeah.” Elias finished with a half-hearted wave as he left the room, heart wrenching in his chest. Leaving Peter hurt in a way he couldn’t get used to. Did that mean they were meant to last? He hoped so hoped not.

Peter grinned from the bed.

\---

When Elias returned home, only the ghost of Peter lingered. A used coffee mug sat pointedly to the side of the other dirty dishes, handle gesturing to the half pot of room temperature coffee. One of the cabinets was left ajar. A magazine in the sizable stack on the kitchen table was left open, as if the reader had only stepped out for a moment and would return. Elias flipped it shut, knowing better. 

Salt hung in the air and Elias knew if he checked the bedroom, the bed would be unmade just to show off the imprint where Peter used to be. 

The reminders of someone’s presence made the emptiness ache that much more, but Elias would be hard pressed to say whether or not he liked that yawning ache. This “ships passing in the night” approach to romance did feel nice in a way – that bare little contact without getting overbearing or making him afraid that he’d be found for a fraud. Then again, maybe he wanted something more than the bare minimum of contact, maybe he wanted to be more than a temporary fixture in someone’s life.

He rolled up a blunt and lit it; what was he doing being up in his own head? He hated it up there. It was best to just let things be, let things happen.

\---

“Oh, honestly, Peter, what are you upset about?”

Peter grit his teeth, pressing his hands onto the dark oak desk. “He was _mine_ , Magnus.”

Jonah Magnus laughed with Elias Bouchard’s throat, sharp green eyes twinkling in Elias Bouchard’s skull. “Was he? Since when do you play so much with your food? Or were you planning on proposing? Elias Lukas does have a ring to it.” He grinned, baring Elias’s teeth. “Do _you_ even know what your plan was? I daresay that Elias would have fed the Lonely as easily as he would’ve served it, but I suppose we’ll never know now.”

Mist curled up from the floor, tinging the air of the office with sharp salt. The knots in the wood of Magnus’s desk swiveled to stare directly at Lukas. The air crackled.

“I laid my claim; _why_ is of no matter to you.”

“Well I am not giving him _back_ , Peter. Stop acting like a petulant child and get over it.” His grin grew more wicked. “After all, what is more delightfully lonely than seeing your lover’s face and it not being them? When it will never, ever be them again? Forever visible and always out of reach.”

“I ought to kill you here.” A thick tendril of fog creeped up Jonah’s pants leg.

Jonah just grinned, unblinking eyes too wide for their stolen sockets. “Try it, Peter, try to kill me in my own office in my place of power. Can you banish me before I eviscerate you and broadcast the essence of Peter Lukas to the entire globe, ensuring you will not be alone even in death?”

The mist faded and Peter was gone.

Jonah blinked and rolled Elias’s shoulders.

\---

Elias watched Peter through someone else’s eyes, distantly aware that his vocal cords were rumbling with words that were not his own. _Yes, Peter, I am yours, please save me. Please, please, please…._ It was strange to beg and beg while his body remained still, his heartbeat steady, his tear ducts utterly dry. Yet he still _hurt_.

He barely had time to process the fact Wright – no, Peter said Magnus. Who is Magnus? Jonah Magnus was the founder, but that guy’s gotta be long dead – was talking about him like a meal before the next phrase would’ve knocked the air out of his lungs if he still controlled his lungs.

“Or were you planning on proposing?”

Without any physical space to put the emotion, he fully felt the hollowing of those words, felt as if he’d been flung bodily into a stormy sea and told to swim. He was glad these eyes kept focused on Peter, but he wished they would move with his wants, wished he could scrutinize every single inch of Peter’s face. Proposal? How was that…? _I don’t think you ever said you loved me_. Was he upset this possible marriage had been snatched away from him? Was he _relieved_?

Even with that last thought, he found himself wanting to reach out for Peter. _You always seemed to know when I wanted to be alone and when I was afraid of it; you have to know now. Please know now. Please know I’m here. Peter, I need you to know I’m here!_

But Peter was gone.

\---

It was Jonah Magnus whose eyes were sitting in Elias’s skull. Jonah Magnus spoke with his vocal cords. Jonah Magnus breathed with his lungs. Jonah Magnus smiled with his lips, baring his teeth. 

Jonah always seemed to know more than he ever let on, but he also was cocky and arrogant. Elias might have been a fuck-up, a disappointment, but he wasn’t _stupid_. If Jonah would gloat at the drop of a hat, he certainly would have if he knew he still shared this skull with someone else. Elias felt mildly safe in the assertion that Jonah had no idea he was in here. 

That did, however, mean he was more alone than he ever had been. Company was, how did Jonah put it those years ago?, _forever visible and always out of reach_. He didn’t like it half as much as he thought he would. No one noticed and no one cared and living that reality would’ve made him curl into a ball and cry if he had any bodily control. As it was, he was hollow and someone else walked his husk of a self around.

That wasn’t to say he got used to being possessed. No, every word, every movement, every breath still felt as unnatural as the last, which in turn felt as unnatural as it had the first time. 

And he had to _watch_.

Though, while him being a truly passive witness was forced, he did _learn_. He learned of the horrific gods, yes, and their terrifying followers. Learned enough to wonder if Jonah felt his fear when he’d first been hired and been scared of being sniffed out for a failure. Learned enough to know _yes, and that was why I was even hired_. He had to wonder how Jonah could not know he was here if he was always privy to such fears. Eyes have a lot of blind spots, though, including the very place in which they sit. 

But, most importantly, Elias learned that Jonah had fears too. 

The biggest was the funniest, Elias thought. After all, with years of this torture under his belt, he was not above accepting death as the way out. Jonah being so afraid of it would’ve made him laugh if he had still been able to. 

In a way, Jonah’s fear made him wish for death even more. Hating Jonah and wanting to spite him was considerably better than just numbly watching his body continue without him.

\---

Jonah was a hard man to kill.

Or rather, many of the people who tried to kill him still cared enough to worry about innocent lives and those that didn’t had an eye kept on them and didn’t get far once they were a true threat.

Elias had never been terribly patient, but he was learning. Death came for everyone and Jonah would be no exception. In the meantime, Elias let himself relish in the thrums of fear he felt in the back of his skull whenever Jonah was threatened. No matter how confident Jonah actually felt, he would still be terrified by that slight chance he miscalculated, and this would be his demise.

Sometimes, Elias liked to pluck that fear like a guitar string and let it reverberate and grow that bit stronger. He could feel his palms grow damp, feel his heartrate gently speed up. It was as close as he got to controlling his body these days.

\---

Gertrude lunged at them and Elias would’ve howled with joyous laughter. He quietly settled in Jonah’s terror and imagined having his head lopped off from his neck, being run through the stomach, the blade deftly slipping between two ribs and resting through his heart. If he were lucky, one of the images would reach Jonah, just as the knowledge Jonah foisted on others had to settle in Elias’s brain.

He felt nothing as Gertrude finally slumped with death and two more gunshots. All things die. 

It’s just a shame that it wasn’t Jonah today.

One day, though. He was patient.

\---

“Well, Peter, that’s another win for you.” Jonah tossed his hands with an easy smile. “And if I’d like to keep my Institute, I should stop here.”

“For worshipping the Eye, you are a terrible gambler.”

Jonah laughed. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”

Peter simply levelled him with a stare.

Elias never knew how he felt about these little meetings and games. His essence simultaneously ached and felt nothing at seeing Peter. Sometimes he remembered the scent of the ocean that clung to him, those islands of connection and contact amidst a sea of silence and longed for that over this. Sometimes he remembered those days and added the knowledge of what Peter was and felt betrayed because that was him being seasoned like an entrée. 

Then again, it’s not like death was the worst thing.

“Are you finally willing to talk about the Extinction, Elias?” _That_ , however, that was something Elias viscerally hated. Peter knew the truth, Peter knew no one was listening. How dare he look into those sickening green eyes and call this thief Elias Bouchard?

“I don’t know what there is to talk about; it’s not worth the concern in any capacity.”

“You have a ritual planned, don’t you?”

Jonah grinned. “Well, I’m not going to just _tell_ you; information and who holds it is much too important for that. But,” and he picked up a poker chip, “what about a wager? One last wager; winner take all.”

Peter grinned and, as the terms were set, Elias, for once, grinned alongside Jonah.

\---

This was truly a gamble. All the manipulations, cajoling, artfully selected statements, those were just plays. Nothing was certain. Even Jonah, in his utmost confidence, knew there was always that chance for something to slip sideways.

Though, he was greatly underestimating that chance.

Jonah wouldn’t take his eyes off of Martin, which suited Elias fine. The light caught on the knife so beautifully and he plucked that string of fear situated at the back of his skull, relishing in the way it thrummed outward.

_Time for the last player to make his entrance._

Nothing was certain.

Well, except for death.

Martin pulled the knife back and before it could touch Jonah’s body, Elias gripped that fear in the back of his head and ripped it forth into full bloom. _Heya, Jonah. You won’t be missed, yeah?_

Elias felt the blood drain from his face. “No….”

And then the blade pierced Jonah’s heart and a scream tore forth from Elias’s throat. His body lurched forward, but a hand clamped on his shoulder, yanking him back. His heart raced in his chest, blood leaking from a spontaneously open wound.

Peter smiled down at him. “Looks like I’ve killed you in your place of power.”

Jonah howled and tried to claw at Peter, eyes unblinking and air crackling for one last parting shot. He was roughly shoved onto the ground, rapidly growing too weak to do more than stare at his own body and watch his own chest go still.

\---

“I-is he really dead? Like… really dead?”

Peter opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shuffling from the floor. Transfixed, Martin and Peter watched Elias Bouchard’s body haltingly push itself up onto all fours. It coughed, blood splattering on the old stonework. It took a deep breath, let it out, and did not take another breath. One of its hands reached up and plucked out the eyes in its skull with all the effort of pulling a grape from the stem. Finally, it stood and crushed the eyes under its shoe.

“Ya miss me, Peter?”

\---

Elias rolled his shoulders, relishing in both the silence and control of his body. Blindness would take some getting used to, but he was honestly sick of _seeing_. He snapped as if suddenly remembering something. “Ah, and Martin, yeah? I’m gonna need you to step away from that fancy watchtower.”

“Who -?”

He heard the thump of someone ( likely Peter with the sudden salt scent in the air ) stepping forward. “Now, Elias, I won the bet you don’t -!”

“Ah, ah. You made a bet with _Jonah_ , not my fault you didn’t make sure that he was the only other player in the game. As _I_ see it, _he_ folded and now it’s just us two. And the other thing is, well, I think you kinda broke my heart, yeah? So, I think I’m gonna burn this place to the ground just to spite you and Jonah there. Honestly, was gonna burn this place to ash no matter what, but upsetting you in the process is a bonus.”

“Wh… No, no, what’s going on here?!”

Elias turned in the direction of Martin’s voice, hands up in apology. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve been rude. Been awhile since I’ve talked to anybody. First, should’ve thanked you before asking you to back away from the tower – thank you for killing that bastard! Secondly, I’m _the_ Elias Bouchard. Jonah possessed me, I was conscious the whole time, it sucked, but now he’s fucking dead. Again, thank you.”

There were a few moments of sputtering. “H-how are _you_ not dead?!”

Elias paused, clicked his tongue, and then pressed two fingers to his wrist. Then put them under the spot where his jaw met his neck. “Well, I think I am. Dead, that is.”

Peter grumbled. “We don’t have time. Martin, _sit down_.”

“At the risk of putting you between a rock and a hard place, if you sit down, I will kill you.” He perked. “Ah, and Death may not be passionate or particularly proactive, but personally I want to leave the Eye a hollowed out husk and can’t promise I’ll let Jon get out if he comes in, so… might wanna meet him before he comes to meet _you_.”

Peter clamped a hand on his shoulder, squeezed tight enough to bruise, and hissed. “You’re not that powerful; I’ll kill you before you make any moves.”

Now able to guess where Peter was, Elias reached out and, with a corpse-cold hand, cupped Peter’s face. “Finally decide you don’t want to marry me?” Peter stiffened under his touch, breath almost imperceptibly stuttering. In the heavy silence, Elias heard Martin shuffle and take a few halting steps before fully committing and leaving the Panopticon in a rush. 

Against his thumb, he felt Peter’s mouth twitch and the grip on his shoulder loosened the slightest bit. “Would you have said yes?”

Elias smiled. “No. Commitment issues, you see, but that’s what you were attracted to, yeah? Why you couldn’t decide whether you should feed me to your god or lead me to worship at its altar.” He stepped closer. “’Sides, ‘Elias Lukas’ sounds like the name of a cartoon character.”

He felt Peter hum more than he heard it.

“I hate the Eye as much as you, but there’s something valuable here. This is important.”

“Extinction is just Death wearing a mask. All things die, Peter, all things end. How we get there doesn’t matter.” A pause. “Was he right? Was seeing my face without it being me the most lonely thing? Did calling him by my name make it ache even more?” He slid his hand back, fingers tangling in thick hair damp from an unnatural mist.

Peter stepped forward, pressing his chest into Elias’s. Elias became aware that he was still oozing from the phantom stab wound and felt a nameless emotion at the thought he would stain Peter’s jacket.

Peter’s voice was low, rough. “Loneliness means nothing if there’s nothing to be separate from. So, yes, I suppose it did ache to see your face and be so certain that you were not there.”

Without warning, Elias pulled Peter into a kiss, letting himself settle into that familiar taste of smoke and crystallized longing. He lifted his other hand to Peter’s other cheek, thumb sliding over his weathered skin. Then, with surgical precision, he sought that seed of fear common in every living being and gave it the lightest prod.

_Peter, what death are you most afraid of?_

Beneath Elias’s fingers, Peter’s pulse quickened and a bead of sweat kissed his palm. For a moment, Peter’s grip on his shoulder tightened, but then he resolved to pull away – only to find Elias hunting forward to keep in the kiss. Like one stranded in a desert stumbling upon an oasis, Elias sucked down Peter’s fear until Peter managed to sidestep into the Lonely and all that was on Elias’s lips was salty mist. 

Elias smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Update: there's a podfic for this now!! GodOfLaundryBaskets created a lovely podfic that you should 100% check out over here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084499


End file.
